For The Greater Good
by Larilaya
Summary: A forced marriage between Lizzie and Mr Darcy. But she won't easily forgive when she knows the truth. Corny summary, I know. I'm sorry about that.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This is my first fanfic, although I have edited a friend's before. Also, unfortunately, it won't let me put in a sufficient break in between different paragraphs... so it's a bit chunked together VERY unfortunately, so I've been forced to put in those horizontal lines. I know that it's not a good thing to do, but it makes it too hard to read and follow properly otherwise. I apologise profusely.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the brilliant characters that Jane Austen invented. I just play with them... Neither have I made any money from this story, nor am I going to.

* * *

The sound of pounding hooves woke Longbourn in the night.

"Oh, oh! What is happening? Oh! We are all going to be murdered in our beds! And no Mr Bennett to protect us! Oh! What is happening? Hill! Hill!"  
Lizzie could not help but be amused at her mother's senseless worries as she hurriedly pulled on her dressing gown. As Mrs Bennett continued to scream of murder, Lizzie and Jane made their way downstairs to see the housekeeper, Hill, pay the man with the express. Lizzie's amusement at her mother vanished like the wind when she saw that the letter was from her uncle Gardiner, and not her father.  
Hill turned to the two eldest Bennett girls, and said  
"I know that the express should go to the mistress, but…"Hill had no need to finish as another of Mrs Bennett's wails raced down the stairs towards them. Lizzie and Jane shared a look and took the letter from the housekeeper's hand.  
"We'll take care of it, thankyou Hill," Lizzie said. Hill curtseyed and made her way up the stairs to calm down the still-hysterical Mrs Bennett.  
Lizzie and Jane opened the letter, both reading it by candlelight.

_ My dear sister and nieces,_

_I am afraid that I bear both good and bad tidings to you, and it troubles me to write of them._

_Firstly, you will be pleased to hear that Lydia and Wickham have been lately discovered and made to marry. There have been financial arrangements involved, all of which your father had agreed to, and even in light of current events they will be able to be fulfilled. But I am afraid that there will be few celebrations about the marriage, as it has been overshadowed by something so terrible…  
I am sorry, I shall no longer sport with your intelligence. I am afraid that there has been an accident here, when Lydia and Wickham were discovered._

_Your father, another gentleman and myself went to see Wickham and Lydia as soon as we found out their whereabouts, to see how it was between them.  
Lydia remained upstairs, while we spoke to Wickham, convincing him that he must marry Lydia. Wickham was obstinate, and refused, unless he was granted the sum of twenty-thousand pounds, and an assurance of him inheriting Longbourn. Your father refused the last, saying that he had no power over who inherited Longbourn upon his death.  
Wickham, however, had not stopped drinking wine since we were there. He was obstinate and grew violent upon your father's refusal, walking around the room, flaying his arms about and yelling. Your father stood to try to calm him down, but before myself or the gentleman who accompanied us could prevent it, Wickham had seized the fire poker and struck your father over his head. We immediately restrained Wickham and called for the authorities and a doctor, but I am deeply troubled to admit that the damage was already done.  
Your father did not survive the blow._

_I am deeply sorrowed, and join you in your despair of this loss. I apologise for being the one to bear such bad tidings, and my wife and I join you in mourning for the loss of Mr Bennett.  
If it pleases you, I will make the arrangements for the transportation of the body and the funeral, to spare yourselves the trouble in such a time._

_In sorrow,_

_Edward Gardiner._

Lizzie heard a roaring in her ears as Jane began to sob. She didn't hear Jane calling her name, or see their mother's appearance at the foot of the stairs as her knees buckled and she fell to the floor in a dead faint.

* * *

The next week passed in a saddened blur for the Bennetts. Lydia and Wickham had returned together from London, and Mrs Bennett had uncharacteristically driven them both from her home. She told her daughter and son-in-law that since they were both culpable for her husband's death, they were never going to be welcome in her home, and so disinherited both of them, refusing to even allow them to attend the funeral. Mr and Mrs Wickham had no choice but to return to London, Lydia sobbing as the carriage drove away. Jane asked Mrs Bennett for clemency for Lydia, at least to attend the funeral. Mrs Bennett reluctantly agreed, and so Lydia came to Longbourn alone, but her stay was an unhappy one, as her mother refused to see her while she was in her home.  
Mr and Mrs Gardiner came and took over the house, helping take care of the family affairs and arranging everything to do with the funeral. Mrs Bennett and her daughters were very grateful to the Gardiners for their kindness, as not even Lizzie or Mary wished to take care of such mundane matters in the wake of their loss.  
Jane cried at almost every moment, everything in the house reminding her of her father.  
Mary refused to speak, being unable to find or offer comfort in those moralistic musings that had so often characterised her speech.  
Kitty acted like a child caught in misbehaviour, scurrying out of sight whenever somebody came into the same room.  
Lydia, by contrast, was the perfect child, the only one able to receive visitors as they came to call to offer their condolences. The event had sobered her from her normal flighty, flirtatious self, a change which Lydia had every intention of keeping, if only to do penance for her wrong.  
Mrs Bennett kept in state above stairs, banishing all visitors from her, including some of her daughters. Lizzie she could not see, as she reminded her far too much of her father. Jane she could bear with some fortitude, but her constant crying was almost unbearable to her compassionate mother.

Lizzie suffered the worst, however. She began to rise with the sun and walk in solitude for almost the entire day, returning only when the sky began to darken. She lost weight, and gained dark circles under her eyes from a lack of sleep. For the first few days, nobody noticed her behaviour, each of them attempting to cope in their own way. But when the day of the funeral came, and Lizzie was nowhere to be found, Jane began to worry about her sister. But an hour before they were to leave for the church, Lizzie returned to change into mourning. The Bennett women walked to the church together, the widow and her daughters silent and strangely forlorn in their mourning black.

* * *

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. We lay the body of Edward Bennet to rest, while Our Father who art in Heaven welcomes him into the fold with open arms. We only pray that those of us left behind would be able to bear the loss of this dearly beloved husband and father."  
The kindly old minister of Meryton church gave the graveside speech as Mr Bennet's coffin was lowered into the ground. Sir and Lady Lucas, the Longs, Mr and Mrs Philips, all their friends in Meryton had come to say goodbye. Even friends from London and beyond had made the journey; The Gardiners were there, Mr Bingley had come, though not his sisters, Mr and Mrs Collins had arrived the day before, even Mr Darcy came to bid farewell to Mr Bennet. Though the attention of the latter few was not on the heavy coffin being lowered into the grave, but on the small knot of women in black, weeping or proudly defying tears, according to their natures.  
Lizzie looked up, tearless, to see Mr Darcy watching her with compassion and regret. Lizzie met him stare for stare, not moving till he did, feeling as if he was intruding on her sorrow from the depth of despair that filled her eyes.

* * *

"Thankyou, Mrs Long. You have been most kind," said Lydia. Mrs Long smiled, and moved away, content that she had fulfilled the compassionate duties of a neighbour and friend.  
"If I am forced to listen to one more condescending neighbour who is _so_ sorry for our loss, and bear their _oh so kind_ questions on where we shall go after Mr Collins takes possession of the house, and their _conviction_ that we shall find _somewhere _suitable, then I shall wring that person's _compassionate_ neck," Lydia complained to Jane.  
"I am sure they mean well."  
"Perhaps. But their condescention is insufferable all the same."  
Jane smiled, eyes bright with held-back tears. The funeral had been finished for an hour, and the mourners had all retired to Longbourn, where the Bennet women thanked them for coming. But this was trying to all their nerves. Society was not welcome in wake of their loss, yet propriety and courtesy must be met ahead of the grieving families' own needs.

"Charlotte," Jane said as she came to her, "thankyou for journeying so far." Lydia smiled thinly, ready to move away should Mrs Collins begin spouting insincere comforts.  
"My dear Jane, how can you bear such society at a moment like this? Surely all you and your family must want is solitude to remember the dead."  
Lydia's smile became true at this sincere affection, but it was Jane who replied.  
"Oh, Charlotte, I am glad somebody understands. While society can be wonderful in it's turn, there are times when it is a little hard to bear with fortitude."  
"I thought as much. I will see what I can do to encourage people to leave. But before I go, I know that this is a hard time for all of you, but I am beginning to worry about Lizzie. I have never seen her look so ill," Charlotte said, worried.  
"I know, I fear that while we all had a great love for our father, it has been Lizzie that has felt his loss the most. I simply do not know what to do for her," Jane replied.  
The three women looked at Lizzie, sitting alone in a chair by the fire, unaware that she was being observed.  
Charlotte interrupted the reverie. "If it pleases you, I will go see what I can do about suggesting to people that they should leave. After all, many have young children and business matters that they desperately need to attend to. But, if I may stay after, and talk to Lizzie? Perhaps she will feel better after I have come."  
"Thankyou Charlotte, of course you may. But I have already tried talking to her, and she will not answer. Yet you were such good friends, perhaps you will do her good."  
Charlotte smiled and moved away through the people clustering around. Jane sighed.  
"I don't know what's to become of any of us," she said to her sister.

It was not five minutes later when Mr Collins asked for the attention of all gathered in the room.  
"My dear friends," he began. "Today it is with sorrow that we say goodbye to our beloved friend, Edward Bennet. He was a good man, if a little eccentric, and will be sorely missed. My esteemed patroness Lady Catherine de Bourgh has informed me that the loss of a father is the worst misfortune that can befall a family, aside from the loss of virtue in a daughter."  
All eyes in the room turned to Lydia, and she blushed but held her head high under their gaze.  
It was at this point that Mrs Collins, seeing the discomfort and shame of the Bennets, attempted to halt her husbands speech.  
"Well, my dear, I think that…"  
"But to be sure, we all grieve with Mrs and the Miss Bennets on their severe lack of fortune during the past months," again, he directed a very pointed look towards Lydia, "and I am sure that we all, as their dear friends, sympathise. Lady Catherine de Bourgh too, very kindly and compassionately, bids me to offer to you her condolences, and she has brought it to my attention that this house and the estate will bring to you and your family only the saddest of rememberances. So she has suggested to me, with only your wellbeing in mind, that I, in the service of my dear relatives, help you to remove yourselves from this dwelling immediately, within the next week, so that your hearts may heal in the peaceful assylum ina a house not filled with so many sad memories."

At Mr Collins' words, a gasp went up from those assembled. Mrs Bennet nearly fainted, the girls could only look with shock upon Mr Collins, and the men began to mutter menacingly at the gall of the man to throw a penniless widow and her daughters from their home before their father was cold in his grave. Mr Collins, however, was oblivious to this, and felt quite proud of himself for his speech. He believed that Lady Catherine would be very pleased with him. Mrs Collins, however, was another story altogether.  
It was four weeks before she could bring herself to talk to him again, another two months before his dinner was brought hot to him, and an added half year complete before she once again shared his bed. It may have been more if Mr Collins had not been prevailed upon by his wife, his father in law and two angry, rich gentlemen, one being the nephew of his esteemed patroness, the other being held in everybody's good opinion, to allow the Bennets to have at least a month before being forced onto the streets.

To the Bennets, however, such punishments and extensions were almost useless. Upon finding out that they were destitute, Mrs Bennet was rendered incapable of any coherent thought or action, and the rest of the girls hardly knew what to do. Lizzie continued her walks, but had reduced herself to only one spoonful of porridge in the morning to sustain her for the day's excercise. Jane, Lydia and Kitty knew not where to start to even begin to economise and find a place to stay. It was Mary who began enquiries and reduced unecessary spending, though despite her best efforts, there was nothing to be found anywhere that the Bennets could afford. Neighbours gave their apologies, moneylenders sympathised but could do nothing. All too soon, the month was nearly over, with no words form Mrs Bennet, no house, little money, no prospects and the health of the second daughter deteriorating every day.

* * *

**A/N: **Review please!! Flames are fine, as long as it's constructive. I'm always looking to improve!

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**A/n: **Hey! Chapter two is here, hooray! Thanks to mbird, Ratty Rowley, liberty-phoenix and moonlover19 for reviewing. Your comments have been great! Liberty, I suppose that it may be a little OOC for Lizzie to go into a self-destructive pattern, but she did love her father heaps, and I've seen stranger things.  
Also, thanks to everyone who put this on story alert, there are too many of you to thank individually, but the encouragement has been fantastic!  
Please keep the reviews coming!

**Disclaimer: **Once again, I own nothing that Jane Austen and her brilliant mind invented, neither do I profit from my little story. Some of the dialogue, though, is taken directly from Austen's masterpiece, Pride and Prejudice.

* * *

Elizabeth Bennet woke early, and began to dress herself. Once again ignoring her staring ribs and pulling on a jacket to hide her bony elbows and too-large dress, she went downstairs to begin her day of aimless wandering. Jane saw her as she passed the dining room.

"Lizzie! Come and break your fast with me," she said.

Lizzie turned to look at her with eyes that seemed too large for her thin, pale face, and came into the room without speaking.  
Jane immediately began to fill her plate with all manner of good things. But the bacon, eggs, sausages and tomatos went untouched as Lizzie took only a small bite of a piece of bread, merely to placate her sister, and stood to continue her day.  
Jane watched her worriedly.

"Lizzie, I know that you are sad that Father passed away, we all are, but that does not mean that you can treat yourself like this. You are pale, and too thin. You eat almost nothing, and we see you only at sunrise and sunset. So much exercise is not beneficial. Lizzie, we are all worried for your health. Please, do not make your family suffer another loss in such a short time."

Lizzie turned in the doorway to meet Jane's pleading eyes. She knew the pain that she was causing her family, knew that she was no longer healthy, and her heart ached for her to stop. But she could not. The pain inside her would not be quenched, and she no longer cared whether she lived or died. Because a part of her had been buried with her father, and nothing could fill that void.  
She shook her head, eyes full of sorrow.

"I cannot."

She left.

* * *

"Mama, I am worried for Lizzie," Jane said. "She barely eats, and she spends all day walking. I know that we have other, pressing problems, but I fear for her more than our comfort."

Mrs Bennet looked at her eldest daughter. Jane was the most beautiful of her daughters, but there was concern and fear clouding her face now. With all the compassion of a mother, she wanted to help her second daughter, but her silliness and her frivolity were so contrasted to Lizzie's character that Mrs Bennet had never understood her.

"I do not know what to do."

The first words Mrs Bennet had spoken in nearly a month did not shock, or surprise, though perhaps they should have. They were the most sensible utterances that Mrs Bennet had even spoken, and they only confirmed the fact that all believed they would have to suffer the death of another loved one, before the mourning period for the first was complete.

"Jane, I am leaving now. I fear that I have overstayed my welcome," Lydia said early the next morning, her suitcases being taken out behind her.

Jane smiled thinly, and came to embrace her youngest sister.

"I will be sorry to see you go."

"I am sorry to have caused such pain among you all. If only I wasn't so stupid, none of this would have happened."  
"Lydia, you cannot blame yourself..."

"Yet you agree with me. If I had not run off with Wickham, Papa would not have come to London. I am culpable."

"It is true," Jane said slowly, "but you are not fully to blame. There are other people who are culpable, apart from yourself."

"You mean Wickham, I suppose."

"I do not wish to speak ill of anyone."

"But he is a murderer, and shall be punished as one."

"I am sorry."

"Jane, I brought this on myself, I know it, so do not pity me. I merely suffer the consequences of my actions, and shall suffer from them for the rest of my life. I saw him, you know. Wickham, when he struck Father. I will never forget it. I felt, so helpless, because I could do nothing to stop him.I was across the room from him, I would never have reached him in time. But I am sure that Uncle Gardiner and Mr Darcy will also suffer, as they were sitting near Father when he was killed. They will never forgive themselves for their helplessness."

"Mr Darcy!?"

Neither of the two women had heard Lizzie walk into the room, and they turned at her excamation.

"Mr Darcy was the other gentleman? What business had he to meddle in our affairs?"

Lydia held her hands over her mouth, regretting her carelessness.

"Oh, I wasn't supposed to say a word. It was supposed to be a secret. I am sorry, please, you cannot say anything. It seems I am not as reformed as I believed myself to be."

"Lydia, now that you have betrayed this detail, you must tell us all. Why was Mr Darcy there?"

Jane was as anxious as Lizzie to know the particulars of Mr Darcy's involvement, but she could not help but feel slightly joyed that Lizzie was finally showing an interest in something other than her own destruction.  
Lydia sighed, and revealed the whole of it to her sisters.

"It was Mr Darcy who discovered us. I never truly knew how, I think it was through some aquaintance, but find us he did. And there was another matter. While Father agreed to pay us a yearly allowance to induce Wickham to marry me, it was only one hundred pounds per annum, and Wickham refused to take that alone." Lydia took a deep breath. "Mr Darcy paid him a sum of ten thousand pounds outright as inducement. That Wickham agreed to. Our Father, Uncle, Mr Darcy and Wickham were assembled that night to finalise the financial arrangements."

Jane and Lizzie were shocked at this news, of Mr Darcy's intimate involvement in Lydia's marriage. They could not conceal their amazement. It was Lizzie who spoke first.

"But why? Why was Mr Darcy so concerned, so willing to part with such an amount, on our account?"

"That I do not know. Father, Uncle, even Wickham all asked him. All times, he refused to give a satisfactory answer. I believe that Father accounted it to some peculiar affection, but there is no proof for such a suspicion."

Jane and Lydia looked at Lizzie, a question in their eyes, but Lizzie did not notice their gazes, deep in thought about Mr Darcy's involvement.

"Mr Darcy is a young man," Lizzie began slowly, "and if he took such an eager interest in this affair, and if he is aware of Mr Wickham's true character, then why did he not prevent our Father's death?"

Jane and Lydia were shocked at this question.

"Lizzie! Surely you do not blame Mr Darcy of all people for Father's death? After all the financial assistance that he has offered?"

"How can I not? Mr Darcy knows Wickham's tempermant. He knew what that man was capable of? Why did he allow this to happen?"

Lydia stood, fury radiating from her being.

"Elizabeth Bennet, I have heard you speak so! If you must blame somebody for our loss, blame myself or Wickham. Not Mr Darcy! He has been very kind to us, and we do not deserve such condescention. Do you blame Uncle for his lack of intervention? No? He was sitting the same distance as Mr Darcy from where Father was standing. Neither man could have doen anything. I have forgiven them, I strongly suggest that you do the same."

With that Lydia left her speechless older sisters, and went to her waiting carriage.  
Jane went upstairs in disgust, leaving Lizzie to think about what both she had said. But no matter of Lydia's forcefullness or sensibility, Lizzie was immovable. She needed somebody to blame. Wickham and Lydia could do no different, it was their natures and so was unchangable. She was quite reonciled to that, and the fact that Uncle was older, and not as agile as he used to be. But Mr Darcy had no excuse, he was limber, he knew Wickham's nature, and yet he had done nothing to prevent Mr Bennet's death. In Lizzie's mind, Mr Darcy was culpable for her father's death. She walked out of the house, the thought set firmly in her mind.

* * *

Lizzie walked in the countryside surrounding Longbourn, no longer taking pleasure in the air and the familiar sights. She walked, where she never knew. But her feet would carry her across the fields she knew so well to her favourite haunts. She walked without thinking, and when she did it was only to dwell on how it was Mr Darcy's fault that her father was dead, until her hate for him had built up with a great pressure inside her, making Lizzie feel as though she would explode from the tension inside her veins.  
About midday she rested in what used to be her favourite shelter as a child, a ring of trees that looked as though they were a fairy's ballroom. She sat and closed her eyes, imagining that she was one of them, careless and free in her dance beneath the canopy.

"Miss Bennet."

Lizzie opened her eyes at the male voice, and saw Mr Darcy standing above her. He smiled.

"I thought I would find you here."

Lizzie only inclined her head, refusing to move. She would not stand for this man.

"Would you do me the honour of walking about with me for a little while?" Mr Darcy asked.

"No."

The answer came short and sharp to her lips. Not for any material comfort would she spend any time in this man's company.  
Mr Darcy frowned, but it soon turned to a slight smile.

"Then I shall have to join you."

He made as if to sit beside her, and Lizzie scrambled to her feet.

"Mr Darcy," she said coldly. She curtesyed and began to walk away.

"Miss Bennet, please. One moment before you leave."

Damned civility, Lizzie thought, and turned to face him.

"One moment only, I really must leave."

Mr Darcy nodded his head in acknowledgement.

"I will attempt to be brief, though I am not sure how successful that endeavour may be. Miss Bennet, you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. Miss Bennet, you are too generous to trifle with me. I can only hope and pray that you would accept me, and consent to be my wife."

Lizzie did not know what to say in response to such passion. Mr Darcy, she knew, meant every word that he had said. He was not the type of man to promise love and give nothing of it, neither was he sure of her acceptance as he had been the first time. In his address she saw only a degree of love that frightened her, and the uncertainty of a true lover. But her sorrow and hate welled up within her, and for the first time in a month, the colour rose into her cheeks.

"In such cases as this, it is, I believe, the established mode to express a sense of olbligation for the sentiments avowed, however unequally they may be returned. It is natural that obligation should be felt, and if I could _feel_ gratitude, I would now thank you. But I cannot – I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly. I am sorry to have occasioned pain to any one. It has been most unconciously done, however, and I hope will be of short duration."

Mr Darcy did not know what had happened to have provoked such a response, and the sorrow that he felt after such a declaration nearly overcame his carefully held countenance.

"May I enquire as to why I am rejected? Have I done something to have provoked such digust? I am sorry for any offense which I might have caused, but please, why do you hate me so much to refuse me in such a manner?"

"Do you think that any consideration would tempt me to accept the man who has been the means of ruining, perhaps for ever, the happiness of myself and my entire family?"

"Of what are you talking?"

"Of my Father, sir. How do you defend yourself for your part in our loss?"

"You blame me for your Father's death?"

"I do! Who was it that was near him when he died? You. A young man who prides himself on his reflexes. My Uncle was the only other one near, and he is not as agile as he used to be. You, who knew Wickham's character, knew what he was capable of. And yet you did nothing. Yes, I blame you. How could I do otherwise? My Father is now dead because of you."

Mr Darcy could not speak. Neither could he bare the hate and sorrow radiating towards him from Lizzie's eyes. Her words had cut him to the quick, for in truth he did blame himself. Blame himself that he did not prevent Mr Bennet's death, for all the reasons that she had relayed. He felt that he could have done something more, something to save him, but he did not. And yet he had hoped, that just maybe, the daughter of his friend would love him in spite of his failure. But she did not, instead she despised him as he despised himself. With these feelings, he could do no more but to lash out at her as she had him.

"At least I, Miss Bennet, do not torture those that love me with self-neglect, and therefore add to their troubles! My pain is my own."

Nothing remained between them as he bid her good day, and left her in her misery, tears threatening to drown him in his sorrow.  
Lizzie ran home, unable to still her emotions enough to allow her to walk peacefully. Upon reaching the door at Longbourn, her health caught up to her, and she fell to the floor.

* * *

When Lizzie opened her eyes three hours later, it was Jane looking down at her with worry.  
Lizzie's eyes began to fill with water, and she attempted to speak, but all that emerged from her dry throat was a grating sound.  
Jane quickly helped her to sit, and gave her a glass of water, making sure that Lizzie had drunk all of it before taking the glass away.

"Oh Jane, I'm so sorry," Lizzie began. Jane interrupted her, squeezing her hand and saying,

"Lizzie, all is well. You need not apologise for anything. We all know how much you loved our father, although we did wish that you would express your grief in another, less detrimental way. But please, allow yourself to rest and eat so that you may recover your health. You must listen to us in this."

"I will, as I now see my own folly. I am sorry to have caused such pain amongst you."

"All is well, Lizzie," Jane said. "Rest now, I will see you later."

Jane kissed her forehead and walked out, closing the door behind her.

* * *

Later that evening, Jane let herself into Lizzie's bedchamber.  
Lizzie smiled at her.

"Can I not eat something more filling than bread and butter? I have only just realised how hungry I am."

Jane smiled.

"No, Lizzie. We do not believe that your stomach will be able to cope with a rich meal just yet. Give it some time to reaccustom itself to eating."

Jane came and sat on the bed. The two sisters sat in silence, content to merely delight in each others company. It was Jane who broke the silence.

"Lizzie, I have been thinking about something you said earlier today. You said that it is only now that you have seen your own folly. What was the catalyst? What was it that made you see the error of your ways?"

Lizzie looked down at her bedclothes, thinking over the days events. She looked up to see Jane's puzzled eyes, and told her everything.

"Jane, I tell you this in the strictest confidence."

Jane nodded, and Lizzie continued.

"We heard the true story of our Father's death this morning, from Lydia. Heard how Mr Darcy did nothing to save him, no! Please, don't interrupt. I went walking afterwards, as I have done since his death, and I came to rest in the Fairy Grove, at about midday. It was there that I met Mr Darcy, and he told me the shocking thing. He loves me. The man who is as responsible for Father's death as his murderer loves me, and wants to marry me."

"What was your reply?"

Lizzie looked surprised that her sister did not guess her answer.

"I refused him. What else could I do? He has ruined our happiness forever! I do not regret my answer, nor the heated manner of its delivery. But it was his words in reply that I shall never forget. He taunted me, saying that while he tortures himself about his actions, he does not torture those around him with his own grief. They penetrated my despair as nothing else had, Jane. Those words made me realise how much I was forcing my family to suffer. I am so sorry, for everything that I have forced you to endure, and if I could go back in time, I would change my actions. I'm sorry."

Jane smiled and squeezed her hand.

"All is forgiven, Lizzie. All we have ever wanted is you wellbeing. I will leave you to sleep now."

Jane walked to the door, taking the candle with her. But she paused in the doorway, and without turning to look at her sister, gave voice to her thoughts.

"Lizzie, while your health has been our greatest concern these past few weeks, our financial troubles have not been resolved in any manner. I know your own feelings on the subject, but Lizzie, in light of what our family will suffer if a miracle does not arise, do you truly believe that refusing Mr Darcy was the best course, not just for you, but for the happiness of all of us?"

Jane left Lizzie in a state of shock, closing the door softly behind her.

* * *

"Elizabeth Bennet, sir."

Mr Darcy looked up from his papers to see Bingley's housekeeper leaving the doorway and Miss Bennet take her place. He immediately rose from his seat and bowed, Miss Bennet curtseying in reply.

"Would you not sit down?"

Lizzie inclined her head, and moved to a chair near his desk. Her skinniness was still very evident, but already her colour had improved and she moved with a grace that belied her illness. While the sight of her still pained him, he was glad to see that she beginning to recover. Three days had passed since their fateful meeting in the little grove, and he had not yet had a chance to properly recover himself. Instead, he kept himself in the study, throwing his whole being into his business affairs.

"I am glad to see that you are looking better," he said.

Lizzie nodded, and tried to find the right words. Mr Darcy waited for her to speak. Eventually, it came, and nothing could have prepared him for her words.

"Mr Darcy, I would like to apologose for my conduct three days ago. It was nothing more than rude, uncivil and uncouth, and I pray that you would forgive for my manner of address – and for what I said."

Mr Darcy nodded.

"Of course, Miss Bennet, you have my forgiveness. Perhaps I was slightly forceful in my address as well, especially after your refusal."

There was silence between them for some time, each dwelling on what had been said.

"Mr Darcy, the reason for my coming here is simple," Lizzie said. "I wished to ask you to forgive me my incivility when you offered your hand, and to say that I have had a change of heart, and would wish to marry you, if you are still willing to have me." She did not look up as she said these words, her shame shining on her face. If she had raised her head, a strange sight would have met her eyes.

It was taking all of Mr Darcy's willpower not to improperly rise from his seat and jump and cry for joy. His heart's one desire was offering herself to him, and nothing could keep him from celebrating this moment.

"Miss Bennet, there is nothing in this world that would give me more joy. I love you, my darling, and know that here before you is the happiest of men."

Lizzie looked up at him, trying not to let her spite and despair show in her eyes. But she could not conceal it.

"Thankyou, sir. But I cannot let you believe a falsehood. It is only circumstance that prompts me to accept this engagement. My feelings towards you have not changed, but I am willing to put them aside for the greater good. For the situation of my family. With that in mind, I hope that this does not change our engagement, and if it does not, I would like to ask if we could keep this private for a little while. I am afraid that I need some time to accustom myself to our situation, and also because I still need time to mourn. "

Mr Darcy felt his joy lessen, though hope quickly filled its place.

"Miss Bennet, this consideration does not change my love, my happiness or our engagement. I know that you still blame me for your father's death, and the Lord knows that I blame myself, but I only hope that one day you will forgive me, and perhaps, learn to love me. If you wish to keep the nature of our relationship secret from our friends, then I will submit to that, though I hope that we may make it public soon. But you need not worry about where your family shall live just yet, I am sure that Mr Bingley will allow you all to stay in this house until somewhere suitable is found."

Lizzie curtseyed, and walked out of the room, knowing that while she would bear his children, she would never forgive him, and certainly never love him.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/n: **Hi everyone! I'm so incredibly sorry for the delay, but I'm currently studying for my HSC, and the last few weeks have been hectic with graduations and all that, as well as the inevitable study and writer's block.  
Again, thankyou to everyone who has reviewed the previous chapters, and as well to everyone else with story alerts. Thanks everyone for bearing with me!

* * *

Mr Bingley stormed about Netherfield, through its halls and corridors until he tripped a maid carrying Miss Bingley's wash water, when he went out of doors to fume in relative solitude.

Mr Darcy watched his friend from his study window, almost hearing Bingley's outrage.

"How dare he! A widow and four unmarried daughters! It's abominable! The nerve of the man! If he was not a man of the church, I would..."

When Mr Bingley began making strangling, tearing motions with his hands, Mr Darcy thought it prudent to at least stem some of the tide of anger. He strode out of his study, and nearly collided with Miss Bingley in the doorway.

"Why, my dear Mr Darcy! I did not think that you would be here this morning!"

Darcy sighed, as it was obvious that she had been standing at the door to his study for quite some time. Miss Bingley had never been proficient at innocent surprise.

"Here in my study, madam, or here in this house?"

"Why, your study of course," she said, fluttering her eyelashes, "I would have thought that you would be calming my dear brother, as you are such a good friend to him."

She moved closer, with a smile that was meant to be desirable, but which only sickened Darcy.

"Thankyou, Miss Bingley. That is exactly what I am going to do now. Good day."

He walked away as quickly as he could, leaving Miss Bingley standing in disappointment near his study.

* * *

"Bingley, whatever is the matter?"

Bingley turned, startled.

"I am going to rip that _man's_ stomach out through his head!"

Bingley continued to storm and pace around the garden. Darcy let him, watching as his friend blew off steam. When Mr Bingley began to attack trees with his fists, Mr Darcy thought he should talk him into some remnant of calmness.

"Bingley, I can hardly imagine that the apple trees have caused you the anger that you appear feel now, so must I inquire again as to why you wish to commit murder, and on whom, dare I ask?"

Bingley halted mid-strike, his closed fist in the air, towards the tall man leaning casually on a tree beside him, looking at him with amusement. Bingley knew that look, knew that pose. This was a Darcy that many outside of his close friends got to see. That of a father waiting for his son to finish some bout of useless childishness before he talked them back into sensibility. He'd seen it before when Georgiana was younger, how she would cry and scream and yell at Darcy to give her this pair of gloves, or that new horse. He'd just sit there, watching her, that same look of amusement on his face as he waited for her to scream herself out. Then, without any change of expression would ask;

"Are you finished?"

Bingley nodded, shamed beyond belief. He was no small child throwing a meaningless tantrum, and those three words made him feel that this last hour was the most futile one of his life. It was no wonder that Georgiana was not spoiled or badly behaved.

"Now, tell me Bingley, why were you attempting to destroy every tree on this estate?"

Bingley felt his previous anger boil in him again.

"Because that small, cowardly little man is making destitute a family with nothing!" He strode around that garden, running his hands through his hair and spluttering. Darcy watched, waiting for the right moment to interrupt his friend's righteous indignation.

"I suppose that you are speaking of Mr Collins and the Bennets?"

"I am indeed," Bingley stopped, and sat at the base of a tree. "How can he? Does he have no human feeling in him at all? They have nothing, _nothing,_ and yet he will throw them onto the streets?"

"You feel for the Bennets then."

"I do indeed! They are such nice, hospitable people who have never wronged anyone. Especially the eldest Miss Bennet. I have never heard her speak a cruel word of or to anyone. And now there is no hope for her."

"Is there not?"

Bingley looked at Darcy, puzzled. Darcy raised one eyebrow, a knowing look on his face. Suddenly Bingley caught his meaning and smiled, then raced away to get his horse.

Darcy smiled the self-satisfied smile of someone who has done a good deed, and remained in the garden, glad that now his Elizabeth would be able to stay at Netherfield. He could now see her every day, and pehaps, convince her to love him. He stayed in the garden, dreaming of her fine eyes, soft white skin, her long hair, and of the day when he would be able to see all of her, take her, and make her his.

* * *

"Oh thank the Lord! I thought it would never happen! Mr Bingley, you are very welcome here, as always. Oh! My Jane looks so beautiful! It seems that betrothal suits you well, my dear!"

The raptures of Mrs Bennet on hearing that her eldest daughter and Mr Bingley were to be wed were enough to satisfy any lingering doubt that the Bennets were not entirely the most properly bred of all families. Yet the lack of decorum of the mother was endured and quickly forgotten in light of the truly joyous news, news that spread quickly around Meryton. Miss Jane Bennet, on the eve of her family's iminent destitution, was to be joined to Mr Bingley, a man of five thousand a year. The general consus was that the Bennets were lucky indeed, and the very next day, when the hated Mr Collins came to take possession of Longbourn, the entirety of the Bennet family removed to Netherfield, on the express desire of a very smitten young man.

* * *

Mr Darcy stood in the threshold of Lizzie's room at Netherfield.

"I hope that you are comfortable here, Miss Bennet. I helped to choose this room especially for you. I believe that I know a little more of your tastes than what Mr Bingley does."

"I am comfortable, Mr Darcy, thankyou for your attention."

Darcy ached for her. She was still stiff and awkward with him, and no smile had found its way to him lately. He wished that she would talk to him, laugh with him. Instead she held him at a distance, unwilling to converse with him for even the shortest of times. It appeared that she still hated him, blamed him, and so would never forgive him for her father's death. Darcy was determined to change this. He wanted to hold her, and so she would be held. It only took time, and he was patient.

He smiled at the thought, and let his thoughts carry him away as he looked at her, trapping her inside her room.

"Mr Darcy, I believe that my mother wishes to see me in the drawing room. Would you please allow me to pass?"

Startled from his visions of creamy white skin tangled with his own flesh by her voice, he looked at his fiancee guiltily.

"Of course, Miss Bennet. Please, forgive me." He moved out of her way. "But I hope that when we are married, you will not be so willing to rush away to see your family," Darcy said with a smile.

Lizzie stopped, a few steps away from where Mr Darcy lounged against the wall.

She turned, slowly, to look at him.

"Mr Darcy, I had been meaning to talk to you about our engagement." She looked at the ground, then straightened her back and shoulders to hold her head proudly and look Darcy straight in the eye.

"I believe that it should not continue."

Darcy felt his knees go weak, and he leant harder against the wall to hold himself upright.

"May I ask why you wish to end our engagement?"

"Mr Darcy, when I came to accept your hand, I believe that I made very clear that I only did so for the sake of my family, and not to gratify my own feelings. I did not love you then, Mr Darcy, and this has not changed. Now that Bingley and Jane are to be married, I feel that I no longer need to hold you to this engagement, and thus I release you to find a woman that is closer to your station, and that may love you the way that I cannot."

"You believe that to end the engagement would be mutually beneficial?"

"I do."

Darcy nodded, tears threatning to fall. Suddenly he was angry, angry at this woman who believed that she could treat him as a puppet, to be played with and then dropped at the slightest inclination.

"I do not, Miss Bennet."

Lizzie's eyes sparked with surprise and indignation.  
"Excu-"

"I am not one of my sister's old dolls, _Elizabeth_, and so you cannot manipulate me like this. I am not to be trifled with. It will not be bourne. Is this why you insisted that we keep our engagement secret? So that you could break it without suffering the shame of associated with unkept betrothals? I love you, and have loved you for a very long time. You knew this when you accepted me, and yet you feel that I will allow you to walk away from me without the slightest objection? Then you do not know me. You made me a promise, Miss Bennet. I intend to make sure that you keep it."

Darcy strode past her, as fast as his long legs could carry him. Lizzie hurried after him, calling his name, asking, insisting, demanding that he tell her just what it was that he intended to do. As he turned towards the drawing room, where their entire company was assembled, her tone became more urgent, but Mr Darcy was not to be stopped. He had made enough allowance for her.

Darcy burst into the drawing room, seemingly with a calm exterior, but inwardly shaking with determination.

"I have something to annouce," he told the silent room. "Miss Elizabeth Bennet and I are engaged."

Lizzie appeared behind him, flushed from her run through the halls, to find the assembled company of her mother, her sisters and Mr Bingley and Caroline looking at Mr Darcy and herself with surprise.

Mr Bingley was the first to recover.

"Well! Darcy! Well done, man! Congratulations!" He came and thoroughly shook his friend's hand, delighting in his good fortune.

In the general confusion that followed, the congratulations of the Bennet sisters, the delighted approval of Mrs Bennet and the immediate fainting of Miss Bingley, nobody heard Lizzie's protestations, and no one but Mr Darcy saw her dagger stares directed towards him, and nobody but him marked her absence when she quit the room.

* * *

Darcy found her later, walking Netherfield park alone in the growing darkness.

"Are you not well, my dear?" Darcy asked.

"Well?" Lizzie could barely contain her anger. "An odd thing for you to enquire about, as your previous behaviour shows no consideration of yours towards my own feelings."

"If you wish to examine all our affairs, you have never shown any consideration towards mine. Perhaps this is some excuse for my behaviour this afternoon."

Lizzie drew back as if slapped.

"I beg your pardon, sir."

"It is given."

"Mr Dar-," an enraged Lizzie began.

"Have you, in all honesty, convinced yourself that all your decisions towards me were not to only benefit yourself?" Darcy interrupted. "You yourself admitted that you only agreed to marry me to secure your own comfort, and that of your family."

"I did, sir. Yet I was fully able to lie, I could have concealed my own feelings and flattered you, made you believe that your affections were returned. Yet I did not. I held you in too high a respect to toy with you in such a way. Even in light of what you have done, or failed to do, there would be no excuse for such behaviour from me."

Quietly, Darcy asked,

"Do you still blame me, Miss Bennet? It is enough that I still punish myself over my inaction, but to have you hate me for the same reasons that I hate myself... It is too much."

For one of the few times in her life, Lizzie did not know what to say. She wanted so much to blame him, to have somebody that she could hate with all of her being to help her manage her own grief. But the truth was that it had faded as she gained weight. She knew that Mr Darcy carried no guilt for her father's death, but her heart refused to accept it and forgive. Yet her mind still bore the result of her father's logic, and was insistent, so in desperation she found a new reason to hate Darcy.

"Your actions this afternoon were inexcusable, Mr Darcy. You wish to have me love you as you love me. Instead, you have earned youself this promise, that I will _never_ love you."

"Madam, I am shamed. You are perfectly right, I should not have acted in such a way, as to go against your wishes. It was ungentlemanly of me, and I apologise. If the prospect of our union is truly so abhorrent to you, then I give you leave to end our engagement. I will make the announcement to your family."

Darcy held his breath as he waited, hoping against hope that she would reconsider. He was somewhat relieved and slightly amused as she bit back a scream of frustration.

"As much as I resent you, Mr Darcy, there is no question of us ending the engagement now that you have made it public. While I am well able to hold my own opinion against my mother alone, the combined efforts of all my family make anything impossible to refuse. I am afraid that even Mr Bingely's considerable income would be strained in an effort to keep all of us."

Mr Darcy could barely conceal his smile.

"I am sorry, Miss Bennet, but I had thought that a woman of such a strong mind as yours would be able to stand her ground against her family."

Lizzie shot him a look that would dissolve whitewash.

"I would like to see how your resolve stands up against my mother's insistance, Mary's logic, Kitty's 'ideas' and worst of all, Jane's quiet comments. Even the strongest resolve would crumble."

"I believe that I can now understand your position, Miss Bennet," said Darcy, overjoyed that she had begun to lose her stiffness with him. This ease did not last long, however. Darcy saw the hate rush back into her countenance.

"Yes, Mr Darcy. A position that you forced upon me. Good day."

She left, walking as quickly as she could back to the house.

Darcy stayed as the light dimmed, relishing that moment where she had almost treated him with the same old vivacity that she had before, and ignoring the cold hate that the woman reading by the fire thought of him with, resolving to never drop her reserve again, and to hate him unabatedly for the rest of her life.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/n: **Hey everyone, here's another chapter. I'd like to apologise for its shortness, and the length of time between updates. I've just finished my final school exams (yay!) so I haven't had much time to write. This is half of my planned chapter, and the other half should be coming soon. But I thought that I should update quickly, as a kind of apology to those who have borne with me for so long.

I've been getting a few reviews that haven't exactly been praising Lizzie for her actions. I'd just like to say that while she may be acting like an idiot, that is not her normal state of mind, and so she probably will recover. We hope. ;-). Anyway, thanks to patmb and tinkcook for your criticisms. They were really helpful, and thankyou to everyone else who has reviewed. How else am I supposed to know what works and what doesn't? Please keep it up.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except the plot. Neither shall I benefit financially from this story. I keep forgetting to add this in, so it applies to the rest of my story. An all-inclusive disclaimer.

* * *

_To Mr and Mrs Edward Gardiner,_

_The Bennett family respectfully request your attendence at the double wedding of Mr Charles Bingley and Miss Jane Bennett and Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy and Miss Elizabeth Bennett.  
The ceremony shall be held at Meryton Church at 11 o'clock in the morning on the 27th of November, and afterwards a small gathering of friends shall be held at Longbourn to celebrate the marriages, and to see the happy couples on their way._

_Your presence would be very welcome at both the church and afterwards at Longbourn._

_It would be very much appreciated if your reply could reach us soon._

_Yours &c,_

_Fanny, Jane and Elizabeth Bennett._

The church was decorated, and the whole of Meryton had been chittering for weeks, talking about who was wearing what and which persons had been invited. The Gardiners, the Bennets, the Philips, the Lucases, the Longs, the Darcys, the Bingleys, and the Hursts had all sent their acceptances. Colonel Fitzwilliam had arrived two days prior, happily informing the couples that his aunt, Lady Catherine De Bourgh, had refused to attend.

The day dawned, splendid in its whiteness, the very best that an English winter could offer. Jane woke early and made her way to the window, smiling as she realised that this was to be the happiest day of her life. The door opened behind her, and a dishevelled Lizzie came quickly in.

"Why Lizzie, whatever is the matter? You do not appear to be well."

"I am not. Oh, why did today have to come?"  
"Lizzie! Today is your wedding day, why are you not happy? You have surely forgiven him by now."

Lizzie looked away and sat on the bed, playing with her bare toes.

"Lizzie..." Jane began, "You can't keep blaming Mr Darcy for his actions. Nobody is perfect, but you seem to accept fault in everybody except him. It is almost as though you want to blame him, and simply make up excuses to do so."

"Jane! That is the most unforgiving speech that I have ever heard you utter!" Lizzie rose angrily, and began to pace around the room. "I do _not_ create reasons to hate Mr Darcy! How could you say such a thing?"

"If you do not create reasons, then tell me how you could honestly believe that Mr Darcy was solely responsible for Father's death."

Lizzie gave her sister a look that would cause anyone with less strength of character to fall at her feet and beg for forgiveness, but she could not fault Jane.

"Perhaps, in that instance, I may have exaggerated the events and Mr Darcy's involvement in them slightly. But that mistake is no reason to suspect that I must do the same in everything connected with him."

Jane said nothing, waiting for the inevitable, uncovered truth. And then it came.

"I cannot forgive him, Jane. I do not even want to. He had no right to force this marriage upon me, when I had told him, with the greatest compassion, that I had no wish for it to proceed."

Lizzie sat next to her sister on the bed.

"Mr Darcy knows that I do not love him, or even respect him in any great manner. He knows that the only reason I accepted his proposal was because of our families' finanacial needs. Why then has he made it impossible for me to break the engagement? I hate him only because he refuses to act in any sane, gentlemanly manner."

Jane smiled. "I have only known Mr Darcy for a short time, yet I have made several observations about his character. Lizzie, he is not a man that easily surrenders what he wants, and especially not what he loves. He can be very generous, but he does tend to be stubborn. Lizzie, he loves you, and I doubt very much that he will allow anything, perhaps not even yourself, to stop him from doing so."

"That may all be very well and good, and he can love me as much as likes as long as he stays at Pemberly, and I in Meryton, without having a marriage between us."

"Perhaps he believes that you may learn to love him."

"Then he is fooling himself. That I cannot, I _will not,_ do."

Lizzie left, not aware that as she swept out the door, Jane had begun to smile knowingly.

* * *

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God and the face of this congregation, to join this man and this woman, and this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is an honourable estate instituted by God..."

The Vicar begun his sermon, a speech which would join Charles Bingley and Jane Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet together for the rest of their lives. Mrs Bennet wept as the Vicar did his work, delighting in the good fortune of her family, and wishing that Mr Bennet could see their eldest daughters now. Mary and Kitty sat together, both wishing in their own ways for their own reasons that their turns would come soon, while the Gardiners were nearly bursting with pride in their two nieces.

On the side of the grooms, Caroline Bingley could only think of how Mrs Darcy was supposed to be her. Mrs Hurst could only agree with her sister's thoughts, and wish that Charles had married for money, and Mr Hurst only wished for the service to be over and for the drinking to begin. Georgiana Darcy, by contrast, delighted in her brother's wedding, unsure which of them she loved most.

As the Vicar moved on to the vows, Jane and Bingley promised their lives to one another with the love between them evident to all who were there. Darcy, however, spoke with his usual cold reserve, and Lizzie was barely audible, though she uttered the words. Her agreement was enough, though, and it was alll that Darcy could do not to gather her up in his arms and kiss her in front of one and all.

"If there is any reason why these two people, and these two people, should not be joined in matrimony, let him speak now or forever hold his peace."

There was a hush in the church as Mrs Bennet began to glare at the assembled guests. Darcy's grip on Lizzie's hand tightened until the moment passed, and the rings were put on the four necessary fingers.

"I now declare you man and wife, and you man and wife. You may now kiss the brides."

Bingley and Jane chastely kissed each others' cheeks, drawing a cheer from the crowd, while Darcy drew Lizzie's hand to his lips, telling her without words how much he loved her. She took no notice of this unspoken messsage, defiance shining in her eyes. As soon as she could, she removed her own hand from his and followed Jane and Bingley from the church to their waiting carriage.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/n: **Hey everyone! This has to be my fastest time between updates yet!! Anywho, this is what was going to be the other half of the last chapter, but which is now a new, albeit short, chapter in itself. Hope you enjoy. More should be coming soon, but I'm sorry to admit that it won't be for a while. I have my formal tomorrow (for those non-aussies, it's like a prom night to celebrate the end of school forever!), and then two days after that I'm leaving on schoolies. (Another aussie end-of-school thing. School-leavers go on holidays with friends for a while, in my case a week). So I probably won't be able to write until after I get back, but we'll see. Once again, please enjoy.

* * *

Throughout the long carriage-ride to Derbyshire and Pemberly, Elizabeth Darcy refused to turn her gaze towards her new husband. Neither would she seek to approve of him by breaking the silence. As a result of her defiance, a tension stretched between them, all the days of their journey, one which Mr Darcy sought to break at every possible moment, and one which Mrs Darcy sought to keep intact in every way she could. Darcy had no doubt that he was being punished for the terrible crime of marrying his dear Lizzie, but only hoped that, in time, she would learn to forgive him, and even perhaps, to love him.

"Elizabeth, my dear, you must be cold. Come here and sit beside me, and I shall keep you warm."

Darcy patted the space beside him, watching his wife jolt in time with the carriage, but as ever before, she gave no sign that she had even heard his request, let alone comprehended it, her gaze as always turned to the prospect to be seen from the carriage window.

Darcy sighed inwardly, and removed his attention to the other window, always aware of her presence opposite him. That she was still angry with him was sure, but for how long less so. He knew that his Lizzie had a temper, and now what he had to do was wait until it waned. He grimly realised that his fantasies of her in the grand bedroom at Pemberly would have to wait some time to be realised. Distracted, frustrated and bored, his mind turned again to his own imaginings.

_The moonlight filtered in through the window to reveal the vision of beauty before him._

_Darcy watched, stunned, from his bed as Elizabeth came towards him, pale skin glimmering _

_in the blue light. She stopped at the foot of his bed, and her eyes never leaving his, began to _

_slowly untie the strings of her bodice. Darcy realised that instead of a proper gown, all she _

_wore was a thin, white underdress that was just thick enough as to not be called transparent._

_He watched in awe as the thin material began to slowly slip down her shoulders, revealing_

_pale, clear skin that he ached to kiss. He watched as the underdress fell to the floor,_

_and Lizzie stood before him in all her glory, dark hair falling about her face and over those _

_beautiful shoulders. She walked around to the side of the bed, and sat beside him. In his _

_unbelieving stupor, he reached out and brushed the hair from her shoulders back, _

_revealing the side of her neck. The temptation became too much for him, and with a moan of desire, began to taste her sweet skin, his hands roving about her body. She leaned into him,_

_and with her mouth almost at his ear, her breath tickling the fine hairs, whispered; "I love you."_

A rough bump in the road roused Darcy from his daydream, and he realised that they were a mere mile from Pemberly, recognising the woods about him. Lizzie was still occupying herself with what lay outside the carriage, paying no attention to him whatsoever. For the first time in the journey, Darcy was grateful for her lack of interest, crossing his legs to hide the physical manisfestation of his fantasy. He only prayed that he would have recovered sufficiently before they arrived at the house.

Mr Darcy was in luck, and he stepped out confident in himself and his relaxation. He turned to give Lizzie his hand to help her out, but she flatly refused, preferring to use the door and not Darcy's hand for support. Darcy gave an appreciative nod to his butler, who had met them, and followed Lizzie into the house.

* * *

Lizzie was silent as Darcy showed her around her new portrayed no interest in her surroundings as she was shown the faces of generations of Darcys, the music room with Georgiana's beautiful instrument or even the largest library she had ever seen, larger evan than the one at Netherfield. Inwardly, though, Lizzie was in awe as she saw the grand house that she was now to call home. Mr Darcy led her to her chambers, and then left her to organise her things and herself as she saw fit.

The maids finished hanging her gowns in the large mahoghany wardrobe, and left Lizzie in the light, spacious set of rooms that she was to call her own.  
Lizzie sat on the bed, finally showing her awe, her appreciation and her uncertainty. The times when she had imagined herself as Mistress of Pemberly, based on her conceptions of Mr Darcy and her remembrances of the house when she had seen it with her Uncle and Aunt, she had never thought of this. This light, airy room furnished tastefully and femininly. It was elegant, large and she loved the room immediately, from the cedar dresser with a large oval mirror to the porcelain chmaber pot painted with delicate roses. She moved to the window, and gasped at the prospect. From her window she had a full view of the lake and woods of Pemberly, the green rolling gently away. The room exceeded her every expectation and she could do nothing but delight in all its simplicity and splendor. She turned to survey the room, and found a door set in the wall that she had not seen before. Curious, she went through to discover another bedroom. Lizzie immediately realised that she had found the master bedroom, and attempted a quick retreat to her own before this was accomplished, Mr Darcy walked out from an adjoining room, his face pink from scrubbing.

"Elizabeth! I see you have found the connecting door," he said. "It was installed by my father so that he and my mother could be with each other at night without walking the hallway. Apparently it was made much use of."

Lizzie only nodded her acknowledgement, then made her hasty retreat. Darcy watched the door close, wondering how often the door would be used now.

* * *

"Would you like some more tea, Elizabeth?"

Darcy and Lizzie sat in the favourite of Darcy's sitting rooms. A silent dinner had become a silent evening, Darcy the only one of the two attempting to converse. Every comment was thwarted with silence, until Lizzie could bear him no longer. She rose, and spoke the first words that she had since her wedding.

"I am tired from the journey, and by your leave I will retire to my room."

Darcy stood when she did, and bowed his permission.

Elizabeth left. Darcy stayed, staring into his glass of port, and thinking about Elizabeth.

* * *

Lizzie closed the door to her room, and lent against it, letting out a sigh. The day had been almost unbearable in its slowness, though she could not fault Mr Darcy's manners. He had been everything charming since their discussion, after he had so unashamedly announced their engagement. Yet Lizzie felt as though she could not cope with his gentlemanly manners. She wanted so much to despise him, yet there he stood, smiling at her and making sure her every need, her every possible whim was met. Oh, how impossible it was to hate him when he worried about her comfort or her safety! Better for him to be hurtful, or spiteful or mean, then she could less easily forgive him his wrongs, and continue to hate him unabashedly. But as the kind man that he was now showing himself to be... How long would it be before her resolve crumbled in lieu of his smiles, his worries, and most of all, the love that shone in his eyes.

But no, she would not think like this, never would she even contemplate his love, or her response to it. Never would she allow herself to hold the slightest good feeling towards him. While the life she had known had been ripped from her grasp, and she removed from her home, her sisters and all that she held dear, she would hold even more tightly to her prejudices, the only surviving remnants of what she had known and loved.

Lizzie changed silently into her bed clothes, then buried herself in the covers. Only when her candles were out and she settled did she allow herself the comfort of tears.

She did not realise that as she wept, a man who cared more for her than for his own life sat at the connecting door, listening to her tears, aching to comfort her in his arms, every sob tearing a new hole through his body as she lay weeping on her bed.

* * *

**A/n: **Reviews please! Here are my answers to a few of the recent questions:

Maisedoat: Wickham shall be hanged, but the courts at this time were practically overflowing - some prisoners were in gaol for 2 years or longer before their case was heard.

Nimph: I suppose that my characters have to be OoC, as you say, or my story wouldn't work. But I've tried to keep them close to the original... however, it's been hard with the content, and I suppose that I'm not that great of a writer.

Patmb: I definitely think that groveling isn't asking too much. She's been far too rude to get out of it. It'll happen... eventually. Though how do you think Darcy will act when she does?


	6. Chapter 6, Part a

A/n: I can only offer my sincerest of sincere apologies for the lateness of this -- and it's incompleteness... I have had rather a LOT going on in my life at the moment, so writing has been ridiculously far down my list of priorities... anyway, this is only part of my proposed "Chapter 6", but I thought that I might as well get it up, as I've been so late between posts (sorry again!) Anyway... it's not very long, and the chapter isn't finished yet, but HOPEFULLY, the rest will be up soon!

* * *

Lizzie looked out the library window, revelling in the beauty of the prospect. There was not much to warrant one's disapproval of Pemberley, except perhaps for it's master. Her earliest discomforts and fears had dimmed into joy and a quiet domesticity. She had grown to love the gardens and woods surrounding Pemberley as much as she had loved those around Longbourn.

Since Mr Darcy's absence three weeks ago, the servants had found the once cold-mannered mistress to be one of the kindest and gentiel ladies they had ever had the good fortune to serve. Yet scarcely a day went by that did not mark some kind of new explanation for the lady's cold indifference towards her husband. For as all the world knew, Mr Darcy was the best gentleman, and the best master. And now Mrs Darcy was proved to be his match in countenance and kindness, yet one would never have supposed her to be so when one observed the cool indifference with which she treated the master. It was a puzzle to the servants, and the wildest stories had grown up around this great mystery, both in the servants quarters of Pemberley, and the streets of Lambton.

Yet Lizzie was almost unaware of their mutterings. She knew that there must be some confusion, but little did it worry her, so content was she in her new home.

In the past three weeks, where she and Mr Darcy had been separated, Lizzie had constantly puzzled over why Darcy had married her, when he knew that she was so against the match. It certainly was not fortune that prompted him, and she did not suppose that it could be love, given her own treatment of him. No love could survive the barely concealed hate that she expressed when they were together. No, the only explanation that presented itself to her was that Mr Darcy had forced her into marriage in a fit of rage, after all, she did humiliate him in saying yes then going back on her word. By this reasoning, therefore, Mr Darcy felt as little for her as she did for him.

Lizzie looked back at the pages of her novel, marvelling in the idiocy of the writer, and wishing that she could have shared this folly with Mr Bennett. The thought caused her only to smile, as she imagined what her father would have said upon reading these sentences. No longer was she anguished over his death, for Lizzie had finally made her peace with it, and was finally content to remember him as one of the very best of men.

Elizabeth soon found herself interrupted from her reverie when Mrs Reynolds, the housekeeper, came to present her with the day's post. Elizabeth's contentment was soon shattered, as she beheld a short note from Mr Darcy. It read -

* * *

My Dearest Elizabeth,

I will not play on your sensibilities by expressing the degree in which I have missed seeing you these last few weeks, but will suffice to say that not a day goes by when I do not think of you.

Thus, I am a very happy man as my business in London will not dely me any further, and we shall leave for Derbyshire this very afternoon.  
I will be bringing my sister Georgiana with me, and there is no doubt that you will be very happy to see her, I know that she is nothing less than eager to talk with you again.

Therefore, we shall hope to arrive on Monday afternoon, between the hours of two and four. I hope you will be so kind as to inform the household of our arrival.

With all my love,

Fitzwilliam.

* * *

Lizzie read the letter twice before she felt herself able to keep her composure. All this nonsense about Mr Darcy missing her and loving her could be dismissed, of course. He was only saying such things to be polite. Yet his return caused within her such a feeling of trepidation that she could not excuse it. There was no reason for her to worry about his return, although this was merely a marriage of convenience, with no extraordinary inclination on either side, Lizzie had nothing to fear of his throwing her out or divorcng her. For whatever the level of indifference he possessed towards her, he was still a gentleman, and therefore such things were beneath him. If Lizzie's place here was secure, why was she nervous about his return?

Desperate to move on from such unsettling thoughts, Lizzie thought of Georgiana, and her arrival caused nothing but pure joy in her. For as much as her brother was coldly considered, Georgiana would always be truly loved in Lizzie's heart.

It was on this happy note, then, that she went forth from the library to inform Mrs Reynolds of their imminent arrival.


	7. A note from the author

Hello readers who aren't completely fed up with me!

First, I would like to apologise sincerely for no-one hearing anything from me for the last few months. You would not believe what the chaos of my life has been...

Second, I feel the need to offer you an explanation. In the last three months, I have gotten married, moved, begun preparations for my unborn baby and tried to complete uni assignments and exams.

Thus, writing has not been in my priority list at all. Anyway, in the process of trying to organise chaos, my plan for this little story has, in a word, disappeared. It's the only copy that I have, and it's a piece of paper, which makes it worse. Thus... I can't actually remember what the second half of chapter six is supposed to be, or how I planned to get to the conclusion.

Third, here's my plan for the immediate future:

I will desperately look for that all-important piece of paper, and if still nothing shows up, then I shall devise something new. If I find it, or even if I write a new one, then I will write three full chapters before I post any of them so that I can keep up with the demand, and it won't be absolutely forever between posts. Therefore, don't expect anything to happen here for quite a while, unless I miraculously find the damn thing and go on a writing frenzy....

Anyway, once again, I am so sorry about this....

Larilaya.


	8. Chapter 6, Part b

A/n: Hello! I have been encouraged by all of you wonderful people to continue on with my writing... maybe a year after I last left you all! Wow, and what a year it was. Anyway, my life has now settled down into a homey kind of domesticity, and I find myself craving some kind of intellectual stimulation. Anyway, i read my email and found a review from NtvGApch, who said that they stayed up late to finish my story. Don't ask me why, but this review gave me the vote of encouragement I needed to complete this! Also, after unpacking boxes after we moved, I have found my piece of paper with the plan on it! How exciting! So, here we are; Chpt 6, part b. I hope that it's alright.

* * *

"Are you sure that she will be happy to receive me? You are both just married, and therefore, would want to be left in solitude, is this not correct?"

Georgiana Darcy sat opposite her brother, confused and elated at the thought of returning to Pemberley. She knew that Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth had been married no more than a month, and her brother had been away for three weeks of that time. She was consequently cautious about intruding upon their hospitality.

Darcy smiled wryly at Georgiana's question.

"You will, by no means, be unwelcome. In fact, I believe that my wife will view your presence as something in the nature of a reprieve, no doubt."

"Surely she does not despise you so, or she would not have agreed to marry you."

"Georgiana, Elizabeth only agreed to marry me because her choice was either marriage to me, or destitution for her entire family. We kept the engagement secret at this time. Then came the news that Jane was to marry Bingley, and he would be willing to support his fiancee's entire family. In view of this, Elizabeth wished to be released from our engagement," Darcy paused, ashamed at his own behaviour. It was still difficult to admit to himself, let alone his sister, how appallingly and reprehensibly he behaved after their conversation.

"I refused to release her. I was convinced at the time that I loved her too much to simply let her, once again, slip away. I now know that it was through anger and malice, not love, that I announced our enagagement to all our aquaintance there assembled, and therefore, not leaving her a way to escape. I caught her like a rabbit in a trap, and she rightly despises me for it. Indeed, even I cannot think on my behaviour without abhorrance."

"Are you not then in love with her?" Georgiana was puzzled. The look in her brother's eye alone when contemplating Elizabeth was confirmation enough that he loved his new wife.

"Yes, I love her," Darcy said. "However, she holds me in far less regard than I do her."

"I am sure that she merely wishes to punish you for your bad behaviour, and will soon come around."

"No, I do not think that is so."  
"Whyever not? She does not have your temper, brother, and will forgive."

"Georgiana, she doesn't love me. She never has."

Darcy returned to his own thoughts, staring unseeing at the passing woods.

Georgiana was stunned by his simple, truthful statement. As far as it was from her own mind that someone could not love her brother, it puzzled and hurt her to think that Elizabeth Darcy, the woman whom Fitzwilliam loved with all his heart, did not share the feeling. Now privy to how disagreeable the marriage was between two of her dearest, Georgiana ached for reconciliation.

Yes, she thought, this can yet be mended. And here she was content to ride the rest of the journey in silence, gathering to herself a most careful plan.

* * *

"Georgiana!"

Lizzie rushed from the doorway, eager to greet her newest sister. Georgiana responded to Lizzie's somewhat excitable welcome with just as much pleasure.

"Dear Lizzie, how are you settled?"

The two women walked back into the house arm in arm, laughing and talking, fast friends already.

Darcy watched with pleasure as he saw how close his two best loved women were becoming. Their relationship was everything he could have hoped for, but when he thought of his own relationship with his wife, he returned once more to the irrespressible depression that had marked his past weeks. Lizzie's farewell to him on his departure three weeks ago had been dismissive at best, and her communication within the time of his absence non-existent, even though he had written almost every day of what he and his sister had been doing in London.

"Any directions fer the cases, sir?"

Darcy turned his attention towards his servingman, pushing his troubles from his mind for the moment. Perhaps tonight she might... he thought, hoping against hope that their cold relationship might turn warm in more ways than one, although he knew that this was impossible. The door to her bedchamber might as well be as tightly walled as her heart, the chance he had of gaining entry to either smaller than a grain of sand.

* * *

"Oh Lizzie, how I have missed you!" Georgiana sat on Lizzie's bed, content in the knowledge that she was home and Lizzie happy to receive her.

"And I too, Georgiana. Oh, I am so glad that you have come!"

Lizzie breathed a sigh of relief as she sat beside Georgiana.

"But why, dear sister? Surely, as a new couple, you would wish to have time with my brother all for yourself?"

"No indeed!" Lizzie exclaimed, almost unthinkingly. "Forgive me, but, may I be frank? And please, excuse my words."

Georgiana nodded.

"I know you believe your brother to be one of the best of men, and I am sure to you he is so, but I cannot feel so kindly toward him. He has done me great wrong; our marriage never should have taken place."

"He has informed me of the circumstances of the match. But for the love you bear him, surely you can find it in your heart to forgive?"

"But I don't love him, Georgiana! I never have! I have done nothing but despise him since my father died, or even perhaps before. He is so arrogant, so proud, so uncaring of the feelings of those around him. He takes only what he wants, ignoring the wishes of those around him!"

Lizzie began to storm around the room, moving dangerously close to antique vases and fragile family heirlooms. Georgiana watched with trepidation as her friend continued to rage about her husband's faults and offenses. Cutting a blasphemous sentence short, Georgiana spoke .

"Lizzie, have you _fully_ explored Pemberley as yet?"

Stunned into silence and a vestige of calm, Lizzie replied that she had not.

"Come with me. I want to show you something that may be of use to you at this moment."

* * *

Georgiana led Lizzie through the corridors of Pemberley, gradually moving up into the less used and less cleaned attics of the great house. Finally, Georgiana found the room that she had been leading Lizzie to, a small attic room filled with broken furniture, torn cushions, ripped curtains, everything discarded and broken that no-one had the time or inclination to repair. A hundred year's worth of forgotten junk lay in this room, from chipped china to a wealth of overflowing goose down.

"What is this place?" Lizzie asked upon entering the small, dimly lit room.

"I used to come here, as a child, when I was angry. I liked to throw things, watch them smash against the wall, or destroy a coverlet and watch the feathers fly down through the air. It always helped my anger to abate." Georgiana smiled. "It's far enough away from the main rooms that no-one can hear your screams, so it's perfectly discrete. And nobody wants what is here, so feel free to break further anything you like. I can guarantee that nobody will notice."

Georgiana smiled and left, closing the door behind her. She waited in the doorway until she heard the crash of china and a wail of "Brute!". She skipped away, brushing the dust of forgotten corridors from her dress, knowing that her plan was well on its way.

* * *

When Lizzie removed herself from the chamber of her unrestrained anger, she felt strangely refreshed, if covered in years' worth of grime. Making her way back to the main rooms of the house, she asked her maid for wash water in her bath room. When all was prepared, Lizzie sank gratefully into the metal tub, soaking away the grit and sweat that clung to her after her unseeming tirade.

Unbeknownst to Lizzie, Georgiana stood outside the room, listening to the sounds of pleasure coming from inside. As Lizzie's made Anna quit the room, Georgiana enquired as to whether Mrs Darcy was bathing. When the reply was in the affirmative, Georgiana knew that she had only to wait, and she could complete the next stage of her plan.

Darcy strode along the corrider leading to his bedchamber, stopping suddenly when he saw Georgiana coming towards him.

"Brother!" She called, "I have just come to search for you. Lizzie said that she wishes to talk to you, she is in her bath room. Her bath is just being prepared."

Darcy could hardly believe his ears; would less than a day with his sister be all that was needed to have his Lizzie to forgive him? Darcy turned without even noticing that he gave no reply, and walked as quickly as dignity would allow to his wife, eager to meet her.

Georgiana watched him go, sad at her deceit, but knowing that it was for the best.

* * *

Darcy opened the door to his wife's bath room, and was rewarded not with the sight of a lady's maid pouring water, but the door revealed instead a picture that he would remember all his days, that of his Elizabeth laying in the bath, head back, relaxed, content and in a state of complete undress.

Darcy stood transfixed in the doorway, his eyes taking in all he could see, from her dark hair hanging loosely over the side of the bath to her face upturned in complete contentment. From her pale, glimmering, rounded shoulders down her smooth skin to her full, rounded, perfectly enjoyable breasts. Down her smooth belly, distorted slightly by the bath water, to the rim of the bath covering any more of that glorious body. She was perfect, even more so than he had imagined. And he knew in that moment that he would never love anyone else for the entirety of his life. That he would do anything and everything that he must to make her love him.

Elizabeth sighed and moved her head slightly.

"Anna, do you have some more water for me?"

Breathless, Darcy could only stammer "Elizabeth..."

Elizabeth looked up.

"What the devil are you doing here?" She screamed, her previous fervour revived at his unmannerly entrance. She scrambled to cover herself, embarrassed and humiliated beyond all belief.

Her tone recovered Darcy enough to speak.

"Georgiana, she... What are you doing?" He asked as Elizabeth lunged for her towelling robe.

"What am I doing?" Lizzie screamed. "Are you completely out of your senses? Have you lost every shred of decency? For no gentleman would question my actions, however I have many reasons to question yours! How _dare_ you!"

"Elizab..."

"You, you, despicable, reprehensible, abominable _disgrace_! You burst in on me, with no explanation, no sense of decency, you come in unannounced! You have embarrassed and humiliated me in the worst way possible, and I shall never forgive you! Now get out!"

Darcy had had enough. He was hurt, betrayed and at the end of his rope. After all he had suffered, this was the last straw.

"This is my house! I will enter whichever room I like! I have done nothing wrong here, yet you accuse me in the worst was possible, you insult me and do not allow me to give an explanation then charge me with offering none! By your calculation my faults are great indeed, and perhaps some of that I deserve, but this? Give blame where blame is due, none of it is mine, and neither shall I accept it!"

"You, you spiteful, hateful man! There is no courtesy in you atall! Get out of this room! Do not make a spectacle of me any more! I refuse to be party to your perverse ways any longer! You have no right to be here! Stop looking at me!"

"Stop looking? Elizabeth Darcy, YOU ARE MY WIFE! I have every right in the world to look at you, to see you! I have far more rights as your husband than even merely that! But I have respected you. I have not forced myself onto you, for that is abhorrant. And it is only due to a mistake, to a simple misunderstanding that I stand before you now. I am your lawfully wedded husband, Elizabeth. And you are my wife."

Darcy left, leaving Elizabeth broken and sobbing on the floor, clutching her robe around her shaking body. She had never hated anyone more in the whole of her life, and yet, her anger was not directed at only him, but at herself. That in the moment he looked at her, that he may not have liked what he saw. What did she care what he thought of her? He only wanted her as a prize trophy, a thing to be obtained, a victory in her bed, no matter how often he denied it. Yet, in the moment when she had opened her eyes, she could almost imagine that what was written on his face as he looked at her was not mere lust, but love. And she hated herself for not realising it before.

* * *

A/n: Please review! It's been so long since I've written anything that I'd like to know that I'm on the right track... :)


	9. Chapter 7

**A/n: **Hello again! My writing frenzy continues, hooray! Thankyou to Eb Evans, bvc17, Loli-pop0394 and Gennyxoxo for your lovely reviews. They really encouraged me to get this chapter up so quickly! To Greenfairyrose, I have to say that your review fascinated me! Most people, and the way that I'm writing it, make out that Lizzie is being the stubborn one, when all Mr Darcy wants is to love her and have her love him. It's fascinating to hear that somebody believes that Mr Darcy is the villain persay, and not Lizzie. It's a wonderful new perspective on the story, and you've made me quite proud that my writing is good enough that it can offer several different and conflicting interpretations, while still getting 'rave reviews', so thankyou! And please, everyone, as always, read, enjoy and review!

* * *

Supper that night was awkward. Elizabeth had not forgiven Darcy for walking in on her unnanounced while she bathed, and so had not come down. Darcy had not forgiven Georgiana for tricking him, and so had ordered his supper to be brought to him in his study. Georgiana dined alone in the great dining room, almost sorry of what she had done to her brother and his wife. No, she thought, I was right. I must strengthen my resolve. This was the first step to them making amends.

It was three in the morning that the express came, and seven when the household rose to find Mr Darcy gone, with only a note left to explain his absence.

_The express that came last night was from my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. I am bidden to Rosings on urgent business. Do not expect me home within five days at least. _

_Fitzwilliam Darcy._

When Elizabeth saw the note, that it was unaddressed and contained no avowed sentiments toward her, she hardly knew what she felt. She knew what she wanted to feel; relief and pride that she had been wrong in her examination of his motives last night. Yet instead she felt... sad. Regretful that there would be no chance to... To what? Apologise? Be the dutiful wife he so wanted of her? Give in to his "husbandly rights"? Angry at herself, and at Mr Darcy for always confusing her, Lizzie threw the note to the floor and stormed off to her room, wishing that she would want to wish plagues upon Fitzwilliam Darcy.

* * *

"Mr Darcy, My Lady."

Mr Darcy walked into the room at Rosings where his aunt customarily held court, and bowed coldly to her. He knew full well that Lady Catherine was arrogant and prideful, as well as abominably rude, but these faults he had always known. It was her outspoken outrage against his Elizabeth that chilled his demeanor today, making him even more silent and imposing.

"Ah, there you are. What kept you? I sent the express two days ago, urging you to the utmost haste." Lady Catherine addressed Darcy from her throne-like chair, imperious as a queen in her castle.

"My horses, madam, could not run any faster."

"Then you should buy new ones that can, heavens knows you can well afford the expense."

Darcy merely inclined his head at his aunt's lack of decorum. There was nothing new to be found in her remarks; they were as proud, rude and incivil as ever.

"I have summoned you here on the most urgent business, and it will not do for you to ignore. I urge you nephew, heed my words, for they shall betray the strongest feelings it has ever been my displeasure to account for."

Darcy sat, knowing that while he should have waited for an invitation from his aunt to be seated, his poor feet would no longer be able to carry his wait until she had finished her speech.

"When I received your wedding invitation, I was convinced that it was merely Miss Bennet's idea of either a creul joke, or a way to extort money from us. Instead, I now hear that not only did you truly intend to marry on that day, but that the ceremony was actually completed! Are you mad, Fitzwilliam? You have married that, that _woman_?"

Darcy bit back the words that rose unbidden to his lips, and put his aunts insults aside. He knew that she knew no better, but one more insult like that from her lips and she would find, to her horror, the true depth of his regard for Mrs Elizabeth Darcy.

"Elizabeth and I are married, yes, aunt. We have been so for a month."

"Oh, Fitzwilliam!" Lady Catherine was shocked. "For heaven's sake, why? She has no money, no connections. There was nothing that could have tempted you. Or had the blasted whore convinced you that she was with child?"

Darcy was shocked beyond belief. His aunt was vulgar, he knew, but he had never believed her to have this little discretion. Darcy felt his temper rising by the moment, and knew that he would never forgive her for calling his beloved Elizabeth a 'whore'. It was only for the love that he bore for his mother that stopped him from leaving the room in that instant, never to return. But no consideration in the world could have caused him to check his words in that moment. He stood in a rage to deliver his speech.

"Madam, you go too far. I love Elizabeth, and need not your approval to commence any action that would secure my own happiness. I would ask you to refrain from uttering such unwholesome and abhorrant comments and apologise, before my patience grows too short with you. I will not bear my Elizabeth's name to be so slandered in my presence!"

"How dare you speak to me like that! I am your aunt and your elder, both of these considerations demand respect from you! Has 'your Elizabeth' so polluted the shades of Pemberley that she has reft from you every ounce of the good manners that your parents to carefully imbued you with? No, I am convinced that it is only by her seducing arts that you are married. When is the illegitamite brat to be born?"

"Lady Catherine! I am ashamed to know you. How such vulgarity and bad manners occasioned themselves to appear in the upper classes I shall never know. I married Elizabeth for no other reason than that I love her. There cannot possibly be a child in her womb! She was led to the altar by her uncle a maid, as is decent and proper. A virgin she was then, and a virgin she remains!"

Darcy had stunned himself, had spoken far more than he had intended. He knew that he had made a mistake in allowing the truth about their marriage to slip from his lips, and Lady Catherine knew it too. A small smile of triumph transformed her face, and she spoke, secure in the knowledge that she had once again got her own way.

"An unconsummated marriage, then? Perhaps the girl has more sense than I gave her credit for." Lady Catherine drew herself up to her full sitting height. "Fitzwilliam Darcy, we shall leave this house immediately and journey to the house of the Bishop. There, you shall have your marriage to Miss Bennet annuled, and we shall make the preparations for your marriage to my daughter. Anne and I have waited long enough."

Darcy stood, shocked, as Lady Catherine delievered her ultimatum. An annulment? He had not even considered it. His mind was filled with questions, and while every fibre of his being rose against it, he knew that to Elizabeth it would not be so unpalatable. Perhaps it should be considered, the option given to her, ask Elizabeth if it was truly what she wanted. Darcy now believed himself to have been rash, he would rather Elizabeth be happy and without him than forced into misery by his own hand. Yet when he spoke, it was not his mind that answer, but his heart.

"No, aunt. There will be no annulment. Elizabeth may profess to hate me, may shun me and ignore me. But I will continue to love her if I am banned from her chambers forever. Such love as this will not permit me to allow any separation between us. Now, if you will forgive me," he bowed, "i have been too long from her side already."

Darcy left, leaving his aunt speechless for perhaps the first time in her entire life.

* * *

Grace quickly moved away from the door as Mr Darcy strode out of it. Again, it was lucky that servants were never noticed. She thought that she would nearly burst with pride in the young master. Her mistress was not the easiest one that she had ever served, and neither was she accustomed to being told 'no'. But Mr Darcy had done it, and done it well. Never had Grace heard such a declaration of love for someone his family believed so unsuitable. One filled with so much passion, conviction and truth as that. Grace rushed off to the kitchens to tell the cook of this great triumph.

Later that night, the cook wrote a letter to her sister.

Later the next afternoon, her sister climbed the stairs to her mistresses' bedroom, the cook's letter in hand.

* * *

Georgiana Darcy looked up from the cook's letter, amazed at the depth of love that her brother had shown towards Lizzie.

"Is she quite certain that this is a true account of what was said?" Georgiana asked.

"Yes, My Lady. Grace has got a memory for words, and my sister wouldn't tell lies."

Georgiana smiled at her maid. "Well then," she said, a twinkle in her eye. "Very well indeed."

* * *

"Lizzie, may I enter?"

Lizzie turned towards Georgiana's voice coming from her door.

"You may, though only at your own risk."

Georgiana smiled and went through the door to find Lizzie standing by the window, staring at the beautiful prospect that lay before her.

"I see that I am not forgiven yet," Georgiana said, sitting down upon the bed.

Lizzie's only reply was to turn and raise her eyebrows.

"And that, I suppose, I may deserve," laughed Georgiana.

"It is no laughing matter, Georgiana!"

"No, no, of course it isn't," Georgiana said, still smiling.

Lizzie sighed, not quite defeated. "What do you want?"

"I came to show you something, Lizzie. I thought that you may find it interesting."

Georgiana handed Lizzie the letter.

"My maidservant, Penny, has an elder sister who works as a cook at Rosings Park. Penny received this from her in the post this morning."

Lizzie read the letter, and re read it. Then she read it again, not quite believing what Mr Darcy had said.

"I cannot believe it," she said.

"You should. What need do the servants have to lie about such things?" Georgiana replied, watching Lizzie's unbelieving and astonished face carefully.

"But why would he say such things? To his aunt, of all people?"

Georgiana smiled knowingly. "There are very few people who can cause my brother to speak unguardedly. It is unfortunate indeed, but our aunt has that ability when she believes that she has been injured by him. What he said here, he meant, Lizzie."

Lizzie looked at Georgiana, hardly daring to hope that what the younger girl said was true. Hardly daring to hope that Mr Darcy had not lied to his aunt. Puzzled and confused, Lizzie hardened her rapidly crumbling resolve, and retreated to the only ground she could find that did not force her to admit what she had already begun to realise.

"I do not believe it. I will not."

Lizzie left, leaving Georgiana on the bed, and the letter on the pillow, Mr Darcy's words echoing in her mind and crumbling the walls around her heart.


	10. Chapter 8

A/n: Hello again! And for the last time, I'm afraid. Welcome to the last chapter! I hope you like the ending. :) I have listened to you all, well, I've read the reviews, and there seems to be quite a lot of discontentment about the ending. Personally, I didn't really see it, so I was quite content to just let it be. It's taken me more than a year to write, so honestly I'd just like to finish it. But then dreamiedreamer submitted a review that suggests that my little fanfic doesn't deserve its rating. That I can understand, so finally, a challenge! So now there is quite a long and rather smutty bit at the end. Read and review, please. If there's something seriously wrong with this ending, tell me and I just might do it again!

* * *

Darcy sat, jolted and bruised from the movement of the carriage. But it was nothing when compared with the turmoil that was in his heart. Not two days ago, Darcy had informed his controlling, interfering, and offensively rude aunt that he would never allow himself to be separated from Elizabeth. He looked out the carriage window, and saw one of his tenants with a vixen he had nursed back to health after rescuing her from a trap six months prior. The young fox was being carried lovingly by the man, who walked with a solid determination to the edge of the woods. The sight was not an unusual one, as the man was often seen carrying the fox in such a manner when he went about his daily business. At first out of neccessity due to a damaged paw, now out of a strong emotional attachment. Darcy ordered the carriage stopped, he alighted and walked swiftly to the man, curious as to why they were here in this part of Darcy's estate.

The man turned when Darcy was only a few metres away and motioned him to stop. Darcy complied, and watched in surprise as the man gently put the fox down at the edge of the woods and stepped back from her, tears streaming down his face. The young vixen looked at him in surprise, looked at Mr Darcy, then back at the tenant. Satisfied, she joyous barked and ran off into the forest, leaving the two men behind her.

The tenant wiped the tears from his face, and walked towards Mr Darcy.

"Yes, sir, what is it you be wishin' to talk to me about?"

"Nothing," Darcy said, surprised, "I mean, why...?" He motioned towards the woods.

"Why did I let her go?"

"Well, yes. Your love for the creature was well known, and you are obviously sad at the separation. Why not keep her with you always?"

"She's a wild creature, Sir. She don't belong ta me. She'd be happier out there in them woods, not with me in me 'ouse. She'd be right miserable if I tried ta keep her away from where she wants ta be."

"But do you not love her?"

""Course. If I loved 'er any less, I wouldn't be 'ere now."

"But... I do not understand."

The tenant looked shrewdly at Mr Darcy, immediately understanding the younger man's dilemma.

"Real love, Sir, is where you put aside any feelings you may 'ave, and do only what is best fer the otha person. Keepin' a poor creature against their will an' their nature ain't love. 'Tis only abidin' by what you want, not what they need. Love's about givin', Sir. Not hoardin'."

The tenant tipped his hat at his master, and walked away. Darcy stood staring into the woods for some time, knowing that the farmer had been talking about more than a mere fox.

* * *

Darcy arrived at Pemberley and stepped out of the carriage, looking up at the windows above him. He saw Elizabeth standing by the library window, watching him. Darcy sighed sadly and walked into the house, determined that this time, he would do the right thing.

The housekeeper met him at the door, nattering about this, that or the other. Darcy didn't hear a word that she said, he just nodded and kept walking, making his way toward the library. After excusing himself to the housekeeper, he stood outside the library door. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders before knocking and entering, knowing that he was about to break his heart.

Lizzie moved from the window to the bookcase on the far side fo the room, puzzled as to why Darcy had walked into Pemberley with such sadness on his face. But even more puzzled as to why she actually cared what was wrong. So deep were her thoughts that she was surprised by a knock on the door, and even more surprised to see Mr Darcy walk in.

"Elizabeth, I must speak with you."

Lizzie motioned Mr Darcy to a chair, and seated herself, looking expectantly, if confusedly, at her husband.

Darcy moved instead to the window, and without once turning from its aspect, proceeded to speak.

"As you are doubtless aware, the purpose for my recent absence was to visit my aunt, Lady Catherine. This visit, and certain... events following it, has made me think. Now, do not believe me to be easily influenced by my aunts opinions and ideas, while she can anger me, I am not swayed by her. But I have been recently thinking about our marriage, and the circumstances by which it has come about. I have come to the conclusion that..."

Mr Darcy paused, drawing breath and the strength to continue. Lizzie sat, eyes transfixed on Mr Darcy's broad back turned away from her, amazed at his words.

"I have decided that my actions were not entirely honourable, and I believe now that I have truly forced you into a committment that is truly abhorrant to you. As such, no true gentleman could sit by silent as a lady he very much admires, even loves, suffers. Therefore, I wish to put my own feelings on the matter aside, and..." Darcy looked down, swallowing quickly before a tremor could come into his voice. "And give you leave of our marriage, if you would so wish it. As our marriage is not consumated, we can journey to the Bishop in the morning and request an annullment. I am sure that this course of actions is one in which you can heartily take part in. I will make the arrangements."

Darcy left quickly, without ever meeting Elizabeth's eyes. Lizzie looked about her in utter confusion. Mr Darcy had just handed her everything she had ever wanted on a silver platter. She could leave, an unmarried woman, and live with Jane and Bingley. She would never have to see the horrid man again!

And yet... she could not banish the thought of him from her mind. His slumped shoulders, downcast eyes and unusually heavy-hearted demeanor. He loved her, she knew. How hard had it been for him to say that? If she did leave on the morrow, how much would that cost him?

* * *

Unexpected guests arrived that afternoon, as Lizzie sat amongst her half-packed trunks and cases. She sat at her little writing desk, the one the her father had given her for her 11th birthday, writing a letter to Jane. Lizzie had so much to say, so much to tell of Mr Darcy and his strange announcement that morning. Lizzie was signing her name when her maid knocked on the door.

"Visitor for you, My Lady."

Lizzie looked up from her letter as her visitor entered.

"Jane!" She cried, and threw herself across the room to embrace her sister. Jane laughed as she caught her, and held her dearest sister tight.

"My dearest Lizzie. It has been too long!"

"Oh, indeed! How goes it all? How is mother, and Mary and Kitty? What of Lydia? Have you heard any news?"

Jane laughed and informed Lizzie of as much of her news as was possible, answering her questions about Mary's new piano teacher and Kitty's newest suitor. Even Wickham's trial was discussed, the date for it being set for eight months into the future. When Jane had related everything that she could think of, satisfying as much of her sisters curiousity as possible, she looked at Lizzie seriously from her seat on the bed.

"Now Lizzie, tell me," Jame said knowingly and seriously. "What has happened?"

Lizzie looked at her sister and burst into tears.

"Oh, Jane," she cried. "I hardly know."

Jane went to her, and held her as Lizzie told her of the awful carriage ride to Pemberley after the wedding, Mr Darcy's continued kindness and thoughtfulness, Georgiana's arrival and tricks, Mr Darcy's absence to Rosings, the letter from the cook, Mr Darcy's declaration that very morning and most of all, her utter confusion. How she had hated him for forcing her into the marriage, how the tingles run up her arm when he holds her hand to help her into and out of the carriage. How she despised him for coming in announced to her bath room, how she so wants him to have liked what he saw that day. How the spiteful man had finally seen reason and let her leave, and how she cannot for the life of her feel entirely pleased about the prospect. How he ruled his estate with absolute authority, and how he knows what is best for each living thing on his lands, and judges accordingly. But mostly how she cannot help thinking about his demeanor when he told her that she may have her annullment. How far from his pride he had to fall. How dejected and broken he looked. And how she wanted to take the hurt away from him so that he would never have to feel it. How she really and honestly believed that he loved her. And loved her truly.

Jane smiled and kneeled on the floor in front of her sister as the day turned into night.

"And what are your own feelings on the matter?"

Lizzie rose and stalked about the room in anguish and frustration.

"You know very well what they are, Jane. He is the most arrogant, spiteful man to ever roam the earth. And I hate him more than I have ever hated anyone else in the entireity of my life."

Jane rose to her feet.

"Do you really?"

She left.

* * *

Supper that night was a quiet affair, though the visitors were made to feel very welcome. Their party lacked one member, and her presence was felt keenly by all for very different reasons. Elizabeth's servant had informed them all that her mistresses would not be down for dinner, as she had gone to bed with a sudden headache.

Bingley regretted her conversation and Georgiana her role, unused as she was to playing hostess, as dear as her guests were. Darcy was deeply saddened by the prospect of losing his Elizabeth, and regretted not being able to be with her every minute before she would so creully leave him. Jane alone rejoiced in her absence, knowing the reason for it prehaps better than even Lizzie did. She finished her meal and retired, forcing her husband to accompany her, all with a small self-satisfied smile playing upon her lips.

Georgiana declared that she refused to endure her brother's melancholy and retired with their guests, saying goodnight in the passageway, but not before pulling aside Mrs Bingley and thanking her for her quick response to her summons, and had she done what she came here to do? Was everything fixed?

Jane merely smiled, patted her arm and said, "No. But I have no doubt that it soon will be."

* * *

Fitzwilliam Darcy sat on the edge of his bed with a heavy heart. To make the arrangements for tomorrow's fated journey had cost him every bit of courage that he had. Only the thought that he was finally making his Elizabeth happy prevented him from cancelling every provision that he had intended to make. And so it was arranged. The carriage would be ready, the cases had gone down after supper and the servants informed. The Bishop would be waiting and it would all be finished. His greatest dream, the woman he loved more than life itself, vanished in a few words, a signed document and a carriage trundling away. He held his head in his hands, dreading the morrow and the long night that would precede it, inevitably counting down the hours until he lost her. There would be no sleep tonight, and no tears. He was beyond tears. Instead a heavy weight pressed upon him as he tossed and turned and tried to ignore the closed door on the wall near him. A door built for love, for joy. Built to facilitate a marriage full of passion and intense love, now locked from the other side, never to be opened and used again. Pah! He couldn't even bear to look at it. He did not suppose that he ever would be able to again. The very knowledge of it seeped into his mind, it's image burned on his brain until he was always aware of it at his back, representing everything that he was about to lose forever. Darcy finally gave up on this, his father's room and resolved to sleep in a spare room, away from such visual reminders of his loss.

He was sitting on the side of the bed, facing the accursed door, and beginning to stuff his big feet into his boots when he heard the distinct click of a lock being opened, then the handle turned.

That door, that awful door, opened to reveal Elizabeth, his Elizabeth, angelic and beautiful in her white nightdress, dark, curly hair hanging loose down her back.

Lizzie stood in the doorway for some time. If it had been any other time, she would have laughed at the picture that Mr Darcy made. He was normally so carefully groomed, but now his hair stuck up at odd angles, evidence of a fitful sleep. His nightshirt twisted around upper thighs, revealing powerful legs and his feet half in half out of his boot. He sat, staring at her, looking for all the world like a rabit stunned by her appearance in the doorframe.

Lizzie mentally shook herself from her reverie and moved towards him. She wanted to tell him that she had forgiven him for forcing her into the marriage. That she was more sorry than she could ever hope to express for her behaviour this past month. That she knew that he loved her and would do anything for her. That she didn't want to leave Pemberley. That she didn't want to leave him.

Sitting on the bed beside him, looking deep into his eyes and seeing the depth of love that she had always known that he felt, the speech that she had been working on all evening evaporated from her mind, and she could only whisper, eyes pleading for him to understand;

"I think I love you."

Darcy raised his hand to her cheek, let it caress her white skin and move slowly down her bared neck and shoulder to her arm and around her back. Drawing her close to him, her smell enveloping, intoxicating, he could only guide her onto the bed beneath him, kissing her waiting lips.

He moved slowly, letting his hand drift down her side until he caught the skirt of her nightdres. Slowly, ever slowly, he drew up the hem. Moving so he was kneeling between her legs, he ran his hands up her thighs, her hips, past her breaths until he had pulled the thin garment over her head.

She lay naked beneath him, pale skin glimmering in the moonlight. He had known she was beautiful, had mentally played out this moment more times than he could count, but nothing could prepare him for the reality that lay before him, watching him with wide brown, almost fearful eyes. Lizzie's dark hair lay spread around her on the pillow, her breasts large and sitting on her chest. Moving his eyes down over the softness of her belly and the full curves of her hips, he was motionless and awed in spite of himself. He looked back up to his wife's eyes and realised that she was looking worriedly at him. Darcy suddenly saw himself as she did; still and silent. He smiled at her and kissed her, giving his hands free roam around her body, exploring the softness of her skin, of her breasts, belly and thighs. He kissed down her neck, tasting her and listening to her quiet intake of breath and he rejoiced, knowing that he was the source of her pleasure. So absorbed by her sweet tasting skin, Darcy was almost surprised when he felt her small hands run up his back inside his nightshirt. He helped Lizzie to pull it over his head, and lay skin on skin with her. He kissed down her cleavage, down the soft skin of her belly until he found the one area that would be forever his. He kissed, one hand gently massaging her breast, and licked her through. Lizzie moaned with pleasure, and he continued, his tongue lapping up her juices and moving with increased urgency. The hand that had been on her breast he now moved downward to aid him, carefully inserting one finger into her vagina. Lizzie gasped at the new sensation, and he rubbed her clitoris with his thumb as he moved his finger inside her. When she began to writhe and buck against him, he removed his hand from her and crawled back up her body to lie again on top of her and kiss her properly. Lizzie looked at him with eyes that pleaded him to finish what he had started, and he smiled and shook his head. He was enjoying this. Let her feel, just once, a taste of what she had put him through. He rolled beside her, catching her hand and moving it to touch where he stood straight against himself. Lizzie took over, moving her hand up and down around his hardness as he directed. Darcy lay back against the pillows with a sigh, and didn't realise that Lizzie had moved her mouth down until he felt the first hot wet breaths of her closing around his tip. He jerked his head and chest up to see her gradually fitting him inside her mouth. Cheeky girl, he thought, revelling in her attentions. She was on her knees off to the left of him, facing Darcy's feet. Darcy reached between her legs and so lightly as to not be touching at all, ran his finger once over her wetness. Lizzie nearly fell against him, but caught herself in time. Darcy restrained a chuckle as Lizzie tried to reach behind her and grab his hand to direct it back. Instead, he pulled her back up lay her down, moving on top of her once again. Holding her pleading eyes with his own, he held himself, rubbing the head into her wetness, past her lips but not into her. Lizzie groaned with longing and bucked against him, trying to catch him and force him inside. Darcy only smiled and held her down.

"Are you sure you want this?" He asked. "I could move away now and leave you be."

He started to pull himself off her in a coolly calculated movement, once again in control of himself as he watched her long for him.

Lizzie's only response was to pull him back and reach her hand down to grab him and guide him in. Darcy let her, silently laughing into her neck. As soon as he was in position he began to slowly glide into her, inch by inch until his hips prevented his penetrating her further. Lizzie only made one small whimper of pain as he lay inside her, letting her muscles stretch around him. When he judged she was ready, he moved three quarters out only to move in again. His muscles quivered at the slow, controlled pace, and he ached to moved quickly inside her. Only the pain that Darcy knew she must be feeling kept him from giving in to her warmth and the weight of his desires until she had recovered somewhat and his own tension became unbearable. Then he moved swiftly, constantly, rhythmically until he could hold it no longer and burst within her and he felt her muscles contract about him.

As he finished and collapsed onto her, he rolled and held her tight against his chest, lips gently placing kisses on her hair and he whispered, "My Lizzie".

They slept, all thoughts of annullment banished and hatred forgotten as the connecting door hung open.

* * *

A/n: I'd just like to say thankyou to everyone for bearing with me on this, and to all those who reviewed, favourited and alerted, a special thankyou to you, too. I hope that you have enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it. And yes, I know that the ending is more than a bit corny, but I like it that way, and I hope it's not too disppointing for you. :)

Larilaya.


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